“Have you spoken with your brother?”

Graem stopped himself from laughing because this was his father he was talking to and sarcasm was never appreciated. He cleared his throat. “Uh, no – no, Dad, I haven’t. Not since last week.”

“I’m worried.”

“Jack can take care of himself.”

“Normally, yes, but…he’s being irrational.”

This time, Graem couldn’t bite the words back. “Well, some could make the argument that that’s business as usual for him.”

He pushed himself away from his desk and stood, cradling the headset on his shoulder. “I finished the reports for the first quarter – it’s early, I know, but it’s thorough,” he added, hoping to get his father off this track.

“I’d like you to call him.”

He shook his head and focused his gaze on the light fixture in the ceiling. Unbelievable. “Why?”

“Because I think he’s at a point right now where he’ll see the error of his ways – he might come ‘round.”

“Dad, Jack wants nothing to do with the company or the family,” Graem reasoned, barely keeping his anger in check. “He made that clear when he walked out of our lives seventeen years ago. This latest round is just an encore.”

He could hear his father’s sigh of…annoyance? acceptance?...on the other end and closed his eyes. After all that he had done, the sacrifices he’d made for the business, the time and efforts he’d put into everything his father had asked of him and still nothing in return. Not one ounce of faith in what he knew he could accomplish.

“He’s still your brother, Graem.”

“I’m not the one who’s forgotten that.”

There was a long silence on the line and prompted a sigh from Graem. “All right,” he conceded. “I’ll do it – I’ll call him.”

“Good. Tell me how it goes.”

No ‘good-bye’ – just the line clicking dead in his ear.

Graem pulled the phone away and tossed it lightly in his hand as he mused over what he should do. If he thought he could get away with not calling Jack, he would. But Phillip would find out somehow – he didn’t want to face that. Huffing loudly, he jammed one hand into his pocket and fumbled to remember the numbers to Jack’s landline.

Kim was on her way out the door when the phone started ringing. She looked back at her father – he was still on the couch, staring at the empty fireplace like it was the only thing occupying his world. She shifted the duffel bag on her shoulder and blinked back the tears. Through the screen door, she could see Aunt Carol waiting patiently at the curb, watching intently, but making no move to come toward the house.

She couldn’t do this anymore.

When she pulled the door closed behind her, she could hear the sing-song greeting of her mother’s voice as the machine picked up. She thought about waiting, listening to it until she heard the ‘beep,’ but the tears were coming now and she had to go.

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